


Moment of Truth

by debronze (sladistics)



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 05:46:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18329837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sladistics/pseuds/debronze
Summary: Bruce will do anything for his children...just not share with them.





	Moment of Truth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wantstobelieve](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wantstobelieve/gifts).



> Inspired by this: http://wantstobelieve.tumblr.com/post/181054846317/are-you-trying-to-seduce-me-wayne
> 
> SladeBru is my new favorite pairing and I'm here to rally the troops!

The licking of heat from the fireplace has yet to lull his thoughts- even after hours of staring into flames that charm his cerulean gaze. His moral compass shifts and whirs, breaks and rebuilds in a vicious cycle…but that reality is repressed. Pushed into those flames that distract him from the very truth he’s invited into this sanctuary. Everything inside of him is out of order and yet he is vaguely aware that the moment he starts to put it back together, his focus will be lost to the threat seeking to penetrate the manor.

“ _Deathstroke_.” He breathes out the name, turning to the shift of air behind him that sees a figure standing in the far corner of the room. Even if it was expected, the very ease of his appearance within protected walls tremors his breath. Bruce turns to fully face what is only a shadow in the room. His robe slips down the slope of his shoulder briefly from the movement before it is tugged up with a quick hand.

“You… got my message.”

“As _if_ you expected me _not_ too. Bruce Wayne doesn’t know how to make mistakes- does he?” His voice is smooth and chilling, completely stealing away the heat previously soaked into Bruce’s skin. He steadies his breath, pressing his lips and dipping his chin.

“I only mean that…I didn’t think you would respond to it.” And while he speaks the mercenary begins to move. Calmly stepping into the light that reflects over the mask and uniform still donned. “Hm. But I was right about this. If you did show, you’d be ready for a scrap. Is that what you think this is?”

Slade removes his helm and tucks it under his arm, hips cocking ever so slightly as if he’s not believing a word he hears.

“And praytell, Mr. Wayne- what _should_ I have thought when receiving an invitation to meet? You and your little winged clan aren’t in the business of having high tea with the very forces you dedicate your lives to stop. Heh. Well…. maybe not _all_ of you.”

There it is. It’s only moments that pass and already Bruce solidifies the purpose of all of this. His reasoning concrete. His lips stretching into a little smirk before he crosses the room towards the liquor cabinet, the sense of danger drowning him as he turns his back to collect two glasses. That eye is upon him. It burns into his back…

“High tea isn’t really my style. Bourbon…however…”

“It takes less than an hour for a bullet wound to heal- what could you possibly think a little alcohol is going to do to me?” Slade cuts him off while walking over to lean upon the arm of the sofa placed in the center of the room, arms folded. “Unless you got nerves to calm.”

“Hah. Sure, but I think you’d agree with me that some liquor is an exception. It’s not going to get you buzzed, but…” ice is collected with the tongs and set in each glass before Bruce pours the amber liquid and turns with both drinks in hand, “the taste can elicit that same intoxication. The heat lingers on lips and coats one’s throat so much that sometimes I think I can breathe fire.”

He hands the glass to Slade who raises a brow while he takes it carefully from Bruce’s grip.

“Why do I get the feeling you’re trying to butter me up for something?” Slade inquires with an amused grin. “You’re stocks are on the rise so…you’re not about to go _broke_. You’ve just put some major players working for Falcone behind bars, so you’re not _stressed_. You’ve been in contact with all of your boys, which all in all tells me that I’m not here for any favors.” Slade’s grin grows just a little wider. “I did my research, Bruce. So unless you’re just pushing your string of good _luck_ by inviting me here, I’d get to the point.” He does however, take a sip, stretching his head back while he lets the bourbon slide down his throat. A deep hum of approval is trapped there before his eye lands on Bruce. Waiting.

In turn, Bruce takes a gentle pull of the drink, licking his lips and nodding his head.

“You mentioned I’ve been in contact with…my boys. _Dick_ , most recently. And I guess you might say it was a little unnerving to hear that he’d been seeking help from you. Behind my _back_.” He’s out with it. Setting the bait. Slade doesn’t exactly leap for it, which is expected, responding with a simple shrug of the shoulders.

“Is it really behind your back when the kid is living independently? Working independently?”

“It’s behind my back to take help from someone he should be focused on investigating himself. He’s no child…I know that-.”

“Then what’s the problem? Kid does something for me, I do something for him. This is Grayson we’re talking about. If corruption is what you’re trying to accuse-.”

“I’m not accusing anything.” Bruce takes a step closer, his voice softer to calm what may very well just explode in his face. Slade’s form still leaning over the arm has their eyes level, a stone cold gaze that sees him seeking the bourbon in his glass yet again. “But I have eyes and ears everywhere. I’ve seen the way you look at him. The comments you’ve made…you don’t exactly hide it.”

“It’s flirting. I’m not-.”

“Flirting. With my _son_. Don’t tell me you’re blind to just how problematic that is. If I were doing the same to Joey-.”

“ ** _Don’t._** ”

Slade rises then, throwing back the rest of the drink before setting it down hard on a nearby table and storming away from him.

“It’s different. And to be asked here to what? Threaten my to keep my cock away from your _ward_? You’ve got some nerve.” Slade’s temper flares as he reaches for his mask, Bruce internally desperate to keep his composure as he watches the assassin make to leave.

“I didn’t ask you here to _threaten_ you. I had a proposition.” Bruce calls out to him, glass still in hand, heart beating rapidly. He’s relieved to see that it’s enough for Slade to halt in his movements. A short breath huffed from him as he turns back around.

“Get to it. Quick.”

A demand. An order. He hates the way it sends a chill up his spine.

“You said you worked on a … ‘I scratch your back’ basis with him.” He backs up a bit, settling on the same arm where Slade just was. “I’d like to do the same with you.”

That surprises Slade, and he can’t quite hide it from his face quickly enough. The helmet is set back down again, and Slade moves back to stand a few feet away from him.

“What could you _possibly_ offer me that would be enough to do anything for _you_?”

Here it is. The moment of truth.

In the moment it all feels so…poorly thought out and impulsive. But he’s thought this all through. He knows Slade Wilson…and he knows just how to play his game.

“Stay away from Dick. From my sons. And in return….you can take what you want. Any possession of mine. Anything within these walls.” It’s not the way he wants it to come out, but he considers the more dire task keeping his tone warm and promising.

Slade scoffs and rakes his fingers through white locks upon his head, licking his lips of stained bourbon while his eye darts around the room.

“You could just say it, you know.” Slade retorts after a few moments, “You could just say that you’re offering yourself over the boy.”

Bruce barks out a charming laugh at that, taking another sip as he stares up at the mammoth of a man.

“Ah…hah…is that what you think? No, Mr. Wilson. Anything within these walls besides _me,_ of course. I should have clarified. I figured any man like you would want a prize from Bruce Wayne. Something that no others have.” He shrugs, that robe slipping back down his shoulder. He doesn’t move to fix it this time.

Slade frowns and his brows tether together.

“Oh please. Look at the way you’re dressed. The robe hardly covers your ass, and I could smell your sex as soon as I walked in here. You’re gonna tell me that’s not what you want?” He’s annoyed, being played as a fool. “ _Having_ Bruce Wayne feels like the real prize to me. That’s a deal I could agree to. You’d be stupid to offer me anything else.”

“I’d be stupid to offer it to you.” Bruce adds, chewing briefly at his bottom lip. “What could make you think that is worth you keeping away from my sons?”

Slade steps into Bruce’s space then, pressing between his thighs that open almost willingly to him. Bruce’s cheeks flush along with his chest, his lip caught upon the rim of the glass he looks up to the towering form who’s hands seek to undo his robe.

“Because you’ll never have to worry about where my cock is buried if it’s right here.” There’s a sudden tension at the back of his head, gloved fingers threading through black hair, their grip slowly tightening. That same sensation is happening between his legs, the hardened imprint hidden just beneath a fold of his robe that doesn’t last long before it’s pulled back to reveal his naked form.

Slade licks his lips, working his gaze over the length of him.

“You should really take my offer, _Bruce_.” That chilling voice purrs over the cracks of the nearby fire, a possession lining his figure that sees Bruce exhaling with a shaky breath. Without another thought, he tips the drink over the slope of his abdomen, the liquid traveling down his sac to the pink slit just under it.

“Go on, then. _Man of his word_.”

Slade’s whole body is engulfed in a heat he didn’t know could come from the man beneath his possession. His length is rigid as it is caught pressing agains the fabric of his pants. The hand gripping his hair releases roughly before dragging around the side of his jaw and neck before all five fingers clasp at his throat. Their eyes never disengage from one another as Slade sinks to his knees. His free hand grabs at Bruce’s shaft from the underside, pushing it flat to his stomach where his mouth could practically taste the bourbon drenched entrance.

“Heh….I can’t wait to watch you squirm, Batboy.” He bites out before he leans in and buries his mouth against that pink puckering hole. His heavy tongue drags over it, into it, sickening the black hairs surrounding it. The mix of bourbon and flesh satisfy a hidden hunger within him, and sends teeth into Bruce’s lip that so desperately tries to contain the sound pounding at his chest.

“Oh, fuck…” He loses. Bruce tremors at the strong muscle tasting parts of him that threaten a dangerous want. The head of him twitches against Slade’s hold, his hips gently canting into against the mouth that continues to violate. He’s unsure if it’s the drink or Slade’s saliva that he soon feels dripping onto the sofa beneath.

Not that it matters.

He chances pushing a hand into Slade’s hair, gripping gently as if to encourage him. _Fuck_. He shouldn’t be doing this. Shouldn’t want this. His eyes are forced open by his own will, ticking to a nearby photo of his parents.

No…no. Don’t do that.

“Mmph…for a bat you sure know how to chirp real pretty..” Slade breathes against him, his lips suckling and biting his way up his drenched stomach, reaching his lips. On his feet again. His own pair hover over him, their noses brushing together. Playing with his food…

“Condom’s in the cabinet over there…” Bruce breathes, tempted to reach those lips but knowing how much slack his leash actually has.

Slade grins.

“Was’wrong? Afraid of having another brat?” Without any warning his tongue dives through parted lips, tasting Bruce’s mouth with a gentle moan before pulling back and hoisting his legs up and around his waist. “Don’t worry. I’m fixed.” He carries Bruce to the front of the fire, kneeling down to set him on his back, pressing firm between his thighs.

“And I always come prepared.” He reaches into his belt, pulling out a think foil of lubricant. “Even if I’d rather listen to you _cry_ about how you can’t take me in…”

_God. Has he always been this hot?_

“Nnhg..you’re confident as ever…” Bruce breathes out, a sharp breath escaping him as Slade thrusts his bulge against him.

“You saying a I have a reason _not_ to be?” His teeth tear off the tab, spitting the piece away before staring down at the man. “Do the honors.”

Bruce’s fingers await Slade to push the lubricant out onto them. He’s quick to dive them between their bodies pressing his tips into the hole that aches for more. He’s quickly bored with prepping himself, fighting his way into Slade’s pants while trying to keep up with hungry lips and tongue that keep his mouth preoccupied. That beard brushing his skin, forcing his back to arch up into the mercenary.

“M’Tired of waiting..” He’s able to sound out between short separations of their mouths, his hand wrapped around the girth of Slade. Grateful now that Slade is allowing lube. He’s heavy. Warm. Smooth and just…large. No less than what he would expect from such a powerful man. “Fuck me already….” It sounds almost like a whine as his hand pumps his cock while sucking on Slade’s tongue.

Slade’s hips have been thrusting through his grip, all while lost in the warmth of his mouth. It’s all he wants to taste while he patiently waits to give them what they both want. _Crave_. He’s only patient enough to shove his pants down to beneath his balls, releasing his sizable set that readies itself at Bruce’s heat. The merc leans back down, his hand gripping just beneath his jaw.

“You’re _mine_ now.”

The burn is almost worse than the pain Bruce feels when Slade plows himself right into his slit, no real prep, no easing in. He’d be stupid if he expected anything else, knowing that the cry that seeps from his lips is exactly what Slade wants. Those powerful hips are impossibly forceful as he pumps into him, sac smacking agains the swell of his cheeks. It’s intense enough to truthfully worry Bruce, if only for a second, that he _could_ get pregnant from this.

His hands reach for that strong back, scratching at the rolling muscles and holding on as he tries to sob out the sounds fucked out of him. The air is filled with heavy breaths, with skin slapping skin, with the squelching sounds of bourbon, saliva, and precum that are trapped between his hole and shaft.

“Fuck…heh….fuck…” He’s got nothing clever to say, nothing that won’t admit that doing this was the best decision he’s made. Slade huffs as he easily keeps a strong pace, but the sweat comes from fucking hard enough to impress the man beneath him. There’s a moment where he’s close to tipping over the edge- however he’s not ready to reward Bruce just yet. After breaking their kiss, he lets a string of spit drip into his mouth, his hand giving the side of his assa firm spank.

“On your stomach.” He orders, not at all giving Bruce the space to comfortable turn over for him. Bruce breathes heavy shifting beneath him and doing his best to move onto his front without taking Slade’s meat out of him. He’s successful, and more so in the sound he wins from Slade as he dips his back and presses his ass back into him. A perfect form while his chest and shoulders stay flat to the ground. It’s the first point in which he can feel his own length leaking on the carpet.

“Keep going…nnngh….want to feel you…” Bruce pleads over his shoulder, watching Slade stay seated deep in him and quietly marveling at the form of his ass. Slade doesn’t respond, mesmerized by the sight of his cock stretching him out, and so Bruce begins to roll his hips against him. Thrusting back and forth onto that slick cock. The mercenary allows it, his hands shaping the form of his thighs and hips while he lets Bruce fuck back into him.

“Good boy…” He breathes out, fingertips catching on jagged scars that coat his skin. But Bruce doesn’t keep his control much longer. Slade is ready to leave his mark…to claim the man beneath him. To seal the very start their deal. His palms press to the shoulders already pinned to the floor, his hips slamming into that drenched pink, gritting his teeth as he drinks the moans swallowing the room.

His seed spills into him. A heavy load that splatters over their thighs as Slade keeps fucking into him. The veins on his neck surface, the warm cum still milking out of him, and by the time his sac is drained, he flattens Bruce to the floor, laying on top of him. Still buried deep, feeling his load fighting to press out of his stretched hole.

They both catch their breaths, Slade’s head resting beside Bruce’s, nudging him to turn his head for a slow kiss. Bruce meets those lips willingly, quietly thankful for a moment of gentle affection. When the kiss breaks they both stare at each other quietly, Bruce suddenly shifting his hips up into Slade, as if to tease the cock still inside of him.

“Ready for round two?”

They both grin.


End file.
